There must be an infinite number of possible thoughts on any one piece of art, but we will only cover seven, a weeks worth. For 52 weeks, through 2009, you will see a work of art from the Portland Art Museum* and a riff each day inspired by it – prose, poetry, photos, video, thoughts or ponderings.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Camping in the Cascades

By: Joseph Powell

Hungry for bootprints, shades of differences,we've come to think like the earth.In the valley below, it was summer,dim air-conditioned houses sulked,days flat as fallow fields.We climb back in time:yellow fawn lillies, shooting stars,ferns curled tight as snails.

We meet grimed climbers coming down,each wrapped in a heavy calmthat bears the unsteady weight of each foot.Out of the blue, one mountainafter another steps forward, beckoning.How far can we go?Finally at Deep Lake, other tentsscattered along the shore,we eat and watch a half moon rise.The stars that guided seafarers,kings, whole milleniums of geese,awaken slowly in uninterrupted sky.

Our lives shrink to incandescent flamesthat blink on the surface of the lake.Smoke climbs its rope of airand disappears into the darklike our own best thoughts.Nocturnal eyes open, claws flex.Faithfully, we lie on the groundspinning slowly through space.Heavenly bodies shine through our sleep.